


Afraid to Fall Apart

by Ramblingnic



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond (Movies), Sherlock (TV), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: 00Q - Freeform, Anal Sex, Angst, BDSM, Crying, Kink, M/M, Multi, Nipple Clamps, Riding Crop, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-14
Updated: 2012-12-14
Packaged: 2017-11-21 02:48:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/592593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ramblingnic/pseuds/Ramblingnic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Q is haunted by M's death and holds himself responsible.  His lover enlists the help of Miss Irene Adler, to help put his boy back together again.  Irene doesn't always have the most conventional methods.   - A Skyfall/Sherlock crossover.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Afraid to Fall Apart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DeathValleyQueen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeathValleyQueen/gifts).



> Spoilers for the entirety of Skyfall. There is no actual sex between Irene and the boys, but she is certainly a part of the action.
> 
> All characters belong to their respective authors/creators.

Q hadn’t quite been the same after M’s death, and the resulting inquiry. The panel had been quick to assign blame, and though the boy was able to cling to his position as Quartermaster, James had watched the colour drain from his already pale face, as words like ‘inexperienced’, ‘gullible’, and ‘entirely culpable’ were thrown about. Six months had past since then, and the colour still hadn’t returned to Q’s cheeks, which brought Bond to the parlour of an old acquaintance, Irene Adler, aka The Woman.

“Well, he’s certainly pretty enough, isn’t he?” Irene drawled, her voice warm as honey, as she trailed her fingertips over the photograph that had been provided to her. Q was slim, and tall, with curly, dark hair, and pale skin. He had just the sort of looks that she had been distracting herself with, especially since Karachi. She glanced over at the Agent, who, as usual, had draped himself across her chesterfield, as though he owned it.

“You know, I do usually get paid for this sort of thing,” she quipped. “Rather how I make my living. Why is it I should do this favour for you?”

“Undying gratitude?” Bond replied, barely moving his eyes to follow her across the room. “Not to mention repayment for that little incident with the Japanese Ambassador and the firecrackers.”

Irene’s smirk blossomed into a full out smile.

“Oh James, now you’re just being sentimental,” she purred. “I still say you should have just let the bastard explode, but fine, I’ll help you with your problem.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Q sighed, as he struggled to get his key into the lock, standing at the doorway of his flat. It stuck, as usual, and he was so busy making a mental note to talk to the building manager, that he didn’t even notice his company, until the door was closed behind him. His weathered, leather briefcase fell to the floor at his feet, as he caught a glimpse of the couple, sitting in the darkness of his living room.

“James, what the hell?” he gasped, his eyes flickering between his co-worker and the unknown woman sitting beside him. “You can’t just sit in my flat, in the dark. I could have shot you.”

“No dear,” the woman said, with a wry smile. “I do believe your hand needs to be somewhere near your gun to manage that.”

Q blushed, both from the sound of her voice, and the knowledge that Bond could have shot him ten times over, before Q even remembered which pocket of his case his gun was stored in. M16 had hired him for his skill with computers, not his crack shot. 

“Besides,” the woman said, standing and crossing the room, to circle him like a tiger. “I told him we should turn the lights on, but you know James. Ever a dramatist.”

Q looked down at Bond, who kept his place on the couch, his face blank and his voice silent. 

“I do,” the young man said, his eyes narrowing, as he stepped closer to his boyfriend. (And why did it still feel so awkward to call James his boyfriend? It shouldn’t feel so strange.) “But how is it you know him so well, and we haven’t met before? And... and him I understand, but what exactly are you doing in my flat?”

“She’s here as a favour to me,” Bond’s voice finally broke his silence. He rose, wrapping his large, calloused hand around the back of Q’s head and pulling him in for a kiss. The Quartermaster fought for a second, before letting himself give in. He wasn’t accustomed to displaying affection with James, in public, but he had barely scraped through a horrible day, and he needed it more than he had even realized.

“This is Miss Adler,Q,” James said, once they broke apart, his voice almost sounding paternal. The boy’s stomach flipped at the tone, partly with arousal, and partly with nervousness. The agent had never used that particular tone in front of company before. It had only been in the last four months that they had even realized they wanted each other in that way, and only in the last two that they had acted on it. 

“You may call me Mistress, or Miss Adler,” Irene said, draping herself over the back of the sofa. She laughed softly, as Q’s eyes went wide with understanding, the corner of her mouth turning up in a smile. “Oh yes, James, he is a sweet one, just like you said,” she smiled slyly, shaking her finger in their direction. 

“Do you trust me?” James asked, tipping Q’s chin up with a crooked finger.

“I... yes, yes of course,” Q stumbled slightly over his reply, but knew his answer as surely as he knew his own name. He trusted Bond implicitly. He had to, as his life was on the line every time they worked together. He trusted Bond more than he trusted himself, far more. As soon as the words of agreement were out of Q’s mouth, Bond’s fingers purposefully set to unbuttoning the front of his dress shirt. Irene continued to watch them closely, from her place behind the sofa.

Q blushed pink from head to toe, as James divested him of each stitch of clothing, all of it left in a small pile on the floor. He tried to bury his head in the crook of the older man’s neck, but instead found himself turned to look at the well dressed woman across from them, with James’ arm wrapped around his chest. He tried to cover himself up with his hands, but found them swatted away.

“Mr. Bond tells me that you two work together,” she said, as though they were all sitting down for a cup of tea, and Q was still wearing all of his clothes. She moved around the sofa, to stand in front of him. He glanced down at her hand, and stiffened, catching a flash of light against metal. Was she holding a gun? And why would Bond have let her keep it, or did he even know? Q’s head swam with the possibilities, making his stomach churn, the way it did everyday since his mistake with Silva.

“Answer the lady please, Q,” James voice cut through his distraction, like a hot spoon in ice cream, with warm breath right against his ear.

“Yes... yes, Miss Adler,” he replied, somewhat more assured, but keeping his gaze on her fist, and whatever it was she held within it. James seemed to feel the tension in his body, and stroked his hands along the flat of Q’s stomach, soothing him. Q tried his best not to wriggle like an impatient child, but was embarrassingly unsuccessful. It was horrifying, being put on display for a woman he hadn’t known for more than a quarter hour, and he didn’t even like women! Q gasped, as James pulled him into a new position, spreading his legs, and groaned as he felt the slick tip of the man’s finger press against the rim of his hole. Though he didn’t dare look up, he could almost feel Irene’s satisfied smile.

“I was telling Irene about what a good boy you are, Q,” Bond’s voice rumbled through them both, as he worked the rest of his finger up into his lover’s body. “What a clever boy you are. She wanted to see for herself. I hope you don’t mind proving me correct.”

Q’s head dropped about as quickly as his heart. Normally he thrived under such praise, letting it break over him in waves, but it was easy to accept praise blindly, and much harder to earn it.

“No,” he shook his head, letting his body rock slowly, propelled by the motions of James’ hand. In a moment the fingers stopped and were pulled out, as the older man leaned in close, whispering against his ear.

“Are you calling a red, Q? We’ve talked about this.”

Q quickly shook his head again. He could easily see how James had misunderstood. No, Q wasn’t comfortable, by any stretch of the imagination, but he knew he belonged to James, and right now, James wanted him there.

“No, I mean, I’m not good,” he said softly, partly to himself, but loud enough for the other two to hear. “It was a simple decryption. He was smarter than I was.”

James knew exactly what he was talking about, but Irene didn’t need to know. It was clear enough that the boy was already broken. Usually that was for her to do, but she was more than happy to move on to the second half of her job, putting him back together again.

“Do you know what I do with boys who aren’t good?” she asked, opening her hand and letting a pair of small silver clamps dangle from her fingers. Q just sat with his mouth open, stunned into silence. Irene just laughed, and moved closer.

“I punish them,” she said, answering her own question. “And I’m not sure that you would like my punishments, so perhaps a bit of a test is in order. Yes?”

“Yes,” the young man rasped out. If the clamps were the test, he didn’t want to know what the punishment was. As soon as the agreement was out of his mouth, he regretted it. “But, but I can’t... I’ve never....”

“For me,” the comforting voice of his lover purred in his ear. God, it was hard not to be able to see James’ face, but Q knew that he was right there. He could feel the familiar strength of James’ thighs beneath him, and smell his cologne. “Not for Miss Adler, and her test,” Bond said soothingly. “I want you to do it for me, show me just how brave you are.”

Q gave a little hiccup of a cry, as he nodded slowly. If James could still see something good in him, clever in him, then perhaps it wasn’t completely gone. Perhaps there was something left of that cocky boy, who had become the youngest Quartermaster in the history of M16. He looked up just in time to catch Irene nod almost imperceptibly, and he felt James’ hand come up across his chest. Q had never especially liked having his nipples touched, and it was an odd sensation as the rough pad of James’ thumb brushed over the first one, bringing it to a tight peak. He squirmed, his head tipping back to lean on a broad shoulder.

“Please Sir,” he whimpered, unsure if he was asking for more, or less, or something entirely different. 

“So sweet,” he could hear Irene coo, as she moved closer and knelt down in front of him. The soft caress he had been given was replaced by a sharp pinch, as her fingers pulled his skin tight and fastened the first clamp on his nipple.

“OW!” Q exclaimed, his hands coming up to try and push her away, but James held him back.

“Would you hold him a bit tighter, while I put the second one on, James? Be a dear,” the woman said, twirling the second clamp around her index finger, teasing him. Q struggled in his lover’s lap, but let his hands be pulled back behind him, both of his wrists held tight in James’ one hand. The other hand moved back between the cheeks of his ass, two fingers sliding in to the first knuckle, and causing Q to moan wantonly. Pain cut through his pleasure, as Irene quickly attached the last clamp, giving them a sharp tug.

“That’s better,” she smiled, taking a step back to look at him.

“Beautiful,” James agreed from behind them, making Q turn a delectable shade of pink. His body was once again rocking, and he gave a soft whimper. 

“Please Sir, more,” he begged, pushing back onto the large, if not quite large enough, fingers. With his eyes closed it was almost easy to ignore that there was a strange woman there, watching him fuck himself on his lover’s hand. His cock was rock hard, and leaking against his stomach, and if it meant relief, he was willing to forget she was there, entirely.

“You heard the boy, 007,” Irene laughed, taking a seat on the sofa, opposite them. “Besides, it’s not really a test if they just lay there, is it?”

Q hadn’t thought of that, the way the nipple clamps would bounce and pull, but it was yet another thing he was willing to push through, if it meant getting to come on what he knew was an extremely satisfying cock. Q felt Bond’s fingers slip from him again, and almost missed the sound of a condom wrapper being opened, over the sound of his own moan.

“Is that what you need, my clever boy?” James purred, teasing at the rim of Q’s hole, with the crown of his cock. 

“Oh God, yes, please,” Q panted, trying to push his way back and seat himself on James’ erection. He hissed in a breath, as pain shocked through him, and looked down to see the man’s hand clipping the clamps together with a thin chain. His body and mind were both overwhelmed, unsure whether to move forward or back, to seek out the pleasure or to avoid the pain. The choice was quickly taken from him, as James pushed forward, sinking into his young lover’s body, until Q’s entire bottom was resting in his lap. He had let go of the chain, but the clamps still swung from the boy’s nipples, at what a painful looking angle. Bond was reluctant to thrust too hard, but a glance across the room at Irene reminded him just what they were all doing there. This wasn’t just about sex, it was about fixing what was broken. 

“There we are, then,” Irene said, with a hint of arousal in her voice, as Bond began to rock the boy up and down in his lap. Though she preferred the company of women, the sight of two beautiful men certainly had an effect all it’s own, and it was only her high level of professionalism that kept her from hiking up her skirt to address a growing problem. Instead she reached over, removing the riding crop she had stowed in the inside pocket of her jacket. She was fairly sure that Q didn’t notice, as she stood and approached the two men. She was absolutely sure of it, when a cry tore from his throat, at the first flick of the crop against his nipple. Even Bond startled, as though he had forgotten what they were there to do.

“Tell me again, what happened, Q,” she commanded him, keeping her tone light. The boy ignored her, lowering his head until his face was no longer visible, behind plump brown curls. Only the slightest shake of his head indicated that he had even heard her. Irene flicked her wrist again, watching as the clamp rose up and twisted, before falling back against his skin. Q sobbed, and looked up at her, tears already streaming down his face.

“You’re so sensitive. Such a darling thing,” she said softly, moving the crop back against the length of her leg, so that he could see he was safe, at least for now. “Now tell me, what happened.”

James shifted forward, leaning his cheek against Q’s back as he fucked deep into the boy. It was a small touch, but enough to loosen Q’s tongue.

“I... I... it was just supposed to be a simple decryption,” he stuttered, his eyes never leaving her, now that he knew the crop was in her hand. “Just get past the fail safes and take a good look at what he had going on.” 

Q paused, his whole body shaking like a frightened animal. It was only when he saw Irene move the crop ever so slightly that he spoke up again.

“I fucked it all up. He escaped.”

His slim, pale body seemed to nearly fall back on top of Bond, as Q saw the crop come up, but with his hands still restrained, there was nothing he could do to avoid the strike to the clamps. He cried out again, begging her to stop. 

“James, is what he is saying true?” she asked, stroking along the shaft of the crop, making Q shudder at the image.

“Silva had us all fooled,” Bond growled softly, still sliding smoothly into the willing body in his lap. He could feel Q tense up for a moment, at the first use of the cursed man’s name. “He had been planning it all for months, years perhaps. No one could have anticipated what he had planned.”

“Should have seen it. I could have saved her,” Q murmured softly, his body twisting to try and avoid the strike which he knew was coming, and honestly was starting to feel he deserved. The crop came down across his nipples, just as he knew it would, but was tempered by the feeling of James’ hand, wrapping around the base of his cock.

“Ohh,” he gasped softly, thrusting up into the touch. The broad, calloused hand circled him tightly, stroking along the silken shaft. 

“There was nothing you could have done,” said the deep, smooth voice of the one person Q really trusted, softly against his shoulder. “We lose people, Q. That’s part of our job. It’s a blasted awful part, but it’s one we have to find our way to live with.”

“I only punish bad boys, Q,” Irene said, plainly, moving toward him with her arm outstretched. Q cringed, but his mind was too busy focussing on the overwhelming feeling of James fucking deep into his ass, and jerking his cock off in even, unhurried strokes. “It doesn’t sound to me like you’ve done anything worth punishing.”

Q whimpered softly, clearly torn. He felt responsible, the same way he had felt since the report came in to Headquarters of M’s death. He had heard from everyone that he wasn’t responsible; Mallory, Eve, even that damned therapist he had been forced to see for his required three sessions. He had never believed any of them. He hadn’t trusted any of them. But this was James, the man who had been there when she died, who had taken Q out for a drink, and then held his shoulders as he vomited his shame into the pub’s back alley. 

“I... I don’t know,” he sobbed, feeling the slow burn of orgasm start to rise in his stomach, at the same time that tears streaked down his face. He pushed back harder against the cock in his ass, riding until it hurt. He could feel both sets of eyes on him; Bond and the woman. Irene stepped closer, kneeling in front of him.

“You’re a good boy, Q,” she said softly, looking him in the eyes. He replied with a soft gasp of a cry.

“Such a good boy, my clever boy,” James echoed, driving himself deeper into his lover’s body, as he felt his own release near. He could feel the shift in his boy’s body, at their combined words.

“Good, good, good...” Q panted, his head tipping back against James’ shoulder, as he felt the heat rush through his veins, every muscle in his body seeming to tense. The hand on his cock sped up to an incredible pace, and Q didn’t even notice, as Irene took hold of the clamps and pulled them away, letting the blood return to his abused nipples. He screamed, his body aching into a painful looking bow, as he spilled over, painting his thighs and stomach with thick strands of come.

“Fuck, yes, my good boy,” James growled roughly, giving another half dozen thrusts, before emptying himself inside the condom, and pulling Q tight against his chest. The two men’s bodies heaved together, seeking back the breath that had been stolen from them. Irene stepped over to the sofa, gathering her things and slipping on her coat. Taking one last look at the couple, she not-so-subtly slipped her business card onto the coffee table.

“Just in case you require my services again in the future, gentlemen,” she said, finally breaking the silence in the room.

“Though, it will be the end of the freebies, James. Consider this your Japanese Ambassador.” 

They could hear the door click shut, and the sound of Irene’s heels, as she walked down the hallway. James carefully turned Q, to rest against his chest, disposing of the condom, and choosing to ignore the sticky mess that they now shared between them.

“You really are perfect,” he sighed, hoping that Q’s realization would be one that would last. Already the color was returning to his cheeks. Q smiled, the first real smile Bond could remember seeing in months.

“Not perfect, Sir,” Q replied, resting his head on the warm, broad chest offered to him. “Not perfect, but perhaps good. Yes, I think, good.”

And good was good enough for them both.


End file.
